


Fiendish

by Shampain



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Dirty Talk, Handcuffs, It's pretty shameless, M/M, Top Crowley (Good Omens), aziraphale says 'oh!' a lot, but i guess now you do?, i blushed as i wrote this, i crave validation so this needs to be posted, it's dirty but also wholesome, kryptonite for sluts, no one can know i'm a thirsty bitch, that's right ya pervs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 23:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21006242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shampain/pseuds/Shampain
Summary: Crowley buys Aziraphale a present: handcuffs.“Who will be wearing them?” he asked.“That's not up to me,” Crowley murmured. “I bought them for you. So you pick.”





	Fiendish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notanescalator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notanescalator/gifts).

> Hi guys! Have some porn.

When the envelope arrived at the shop, Aziraphale opened it without thinking, pulling at the red tab that tore a neat slit along the top. He was on the phone as he did so, giving a customer some bad news about a book he did not have in stock (he did) when the contents clattered out, right there on the counter.

Naturally, at that exact moment a young woman appeared, holding a battered copy of _ Nanny Ogg's Cookbook _. She and Aziraphale both looked down at the pair of heavy-duty handcuffs that were now sitting, quite innocently, beside the cash register.

“Nice,” she commented.

Aziraphale hung up the phone. “Oh, well,” he said, before running out of words. He was so flustered he ended up selling her the book without even trying to talk her out of it, and as soon as she left he locked the door and turned the sign around to CLOSED.

“What are you playing at?” he asked, on the phone, once Crowley had picked up.

The demon sounded very amused. “Oh, you got the package, then,” he said.

“What's the point, anyway?” Aziraphale said. “The cuffs are closed.”

“Ah, see,” Crowley said, and the tone of his voice lowered just slightly, enough to make Aziraphale reflexively clench the phone in his hand. “_I _ have the key. So you better come on over if you want to do anything useful with them.”

Aziraphale ran his hand over the counter, feeling suddenly very quiet, very attentive. Crowley was playing a game with him, and he was not displeased about it. “Who will be wearing them?” he asked.

“That's not up to me,” Crowley murmured. “I bought them for you. So you pick.”

Crowley's flat was dark and cavernous, but felt strangely homely to Aziraphale. Ever since... well, he considered it the beginning, _ their _ beginning, that night on the bus when they had held hands, he had spent quite a bit of time there. In fact, when before the bookshop had been their shared space for so long, Aziraphale now found himself spending an equal amount of time in the flat, only with far less clothes being worn there than at the shop.

Aziraphale let himself in, using the personal security code Crowley had installed just for him. He had the envelope (its top folded snugly down) tucked under one arm as he closed and locked the door behind him.

“In here, angel.”

Aziraphale found Crowley in his office. For some reason the demon delighted in having the most ridiculous chair imaginable, and treated it the way most people would treat a sofa. Aziraphale didn't think Crowley even did any work at the desk, because the chair was never close enough for him to actually use it; there was always a nice gap so that the demon could fling himself on or off whenever he chose. At that moment he was sitting there with a glass of scotch. The vapours it gave off tickled Aziraphale's nose as he carefully got into the chair with Crowley, the two of them curling up comfortably around each other.

“Can I have some?” he asked, nosing at the demon's hair. He had deposited the envelope on the desk, and he and Crowley were both pretending not to look at it.

“'Course,” he murmured, handing the glass over. “Poured it for you.”

While they sat in the chair together, he was mostly on top of Crowley – and that lean, rigid, warm body beneath him was enough to distract even him from the exquisite single malt. He took one sip before giving it back, and began to toy with the bottom hem of Crowley's ridiculous designer t-shirt.

“Hey, now,” Crowley laughed. “Hold on.”

He shifted, leaning over to place the glass on the desk, but picked up the envelope before settling back down. Aziraphale pressed himself against him and watched the demon shake the cuffs out into their laps.

They seemed even larger, more intimidating now than before, but somehow that made them more of a draw. Aziraphale watched Crowley hold them up by the connecting chain and dangle them. “Well?” he asked, breath hot against Aziraphale's ear.

“Where are the keys?” Aziraphale murmured.

“Bedroom.”

Aziraphale smoothed a hand over the demon's cheek, turned his face towards his so they could kiss. Crowley seemed taken aback, because Aziraphale kissed him as if he were demanding something – which he was – and he was rewarded to see the demon slightly out of breath when their lips parted.

“Then we should go there, so you can help me put them on,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley grinned, leaning forward to kiss the tip of Aziraphale's nose, before sliding out of the chair, grabbing Aziraphale's hand to help him up.

The bedroom looked as pristine as usual. Aziraphale always preferred the comforts of chaos, like in his bookshop, but he appreciated Crowley's flat, the bareness of it, especially in the crisp way the demon made the bed. He understood it was because Crowley took some sort of delight in messing up things, including neatly folded sheets.

The key was sitting alone on the bedside table. The demon began to unlock the cuffs, and Aziraphale stepped forward, feeling an odd mixture of trepidation and eagerness, and presented his hands.

Crowley shook his head, taking Aziraphale's shoulders and turning him around, gently guiding his hands behind his back. “Like this,” he instructed. Aziraphale nodded, tensing in anticipation as the demon snapped the cuffs on. It was not uncomfortable to have his hands cuffed behind his back, but it would certainly take some getting used to.

“There,” Crowley said, as Aziraphale glanced over his shoulder, his smile beginning to turn into a playful smirk. “Much easier to roll you over like that.”

Aziraphale felt a blush begin to start on his cheeks, courtesy of the look in the demon's eyes and the cold metal on his wrists. “Is that what you want?”

“Isn't it what you want?”

“What do you-”

“'Get thee behind me, foul fiend,'” Crowley quoted, with a devilish twist of his mouth, and Aziraphale's blush deepened.

“_Well _,” he began, but Crowley kissed him quickly, muffling a protest that Aziraphale quickly forgot.

“Onto the bed,” Crowley whispered, and Aziraphale was not about to argue.

Since his hands were bound, Crowley helped him, shifting him back onto the bed, settling him down with his head and shoulders nested in the pillows. He felt a tiny thrill as the demon considered him, an intense focus in his yellow eyes. He gently pressed Aziraphale's legs apart.

“You like this?” Crowley asked, having noticed the subtle hitch in Aziraphale's breath.

Handcuffed or not, Aziraphale liked to believe he wasn't _ that _ easy. He raised an eyebrow. “You really _ are _ a fiend,” he said, matter-of-fact.

Crowley's laugh – which was always honest and lovely and sweeter than a bell to Aziraphale's ear – was rewarding. He leaned down to kiss him, long and slow, and Aziraphale pressed forward, wanting more, and then started in surprise when he felt Crowley playing with the buttons of his trousers.

But he was only teasing, because his hands went up, beginning to work on Aziraphale's bow tie, opening up his shirt. Sucking and licking at the side of his neck, hot and damp and possessive, like he was devouring him.

Aziraphale whimpered and shifted his hips before he could stop himself, though nowhere near connecting with Crowley, and he could feel the tension in the demon winding tighter with every moment. “I am, though, you're right,” he breathed in the hollow of Aziraphale's throat. “A fiend. And foul.”

“You- _ ohhh _,” Aziraphale panted, Crowley's hand clamping down between Aziraphale's legs. His hips jerked, feeling himself getting harder with every moment he was rubbing himself against the heel of Crowley's palm.

Crowley pressed his hand down a bit harder and then stayed there, watching, eyes glittering lustfully, as Aziraphale did his best to arch his back and grind up against him. “You are,” Aziraphale gasped, rewarded by another flicker in the demon's eyes. “A foul. Fiend.”

“And you're _ hot _ for it, aren't you,” Crowley asked, grinning. “You want me to help you take these trousers off?”

Aziraphale nodded, hips still hitching up against Crowley's palm.

“Hm?”

“Please,” Aziraphale moaned.

Crowley shifted, getting close to him again; but Aziraphale felt relief swoop in his chest as he felt the demon unbuttoning his trousers. “I'll do one better,” he murmured.

“Tell me.”

“I'm going to put your cock in my mouth,” he breathed, licking the side of Aziraphale's neck.

Then Crowley was undressing him from the waist down, roughly, dragging everything off, pushing it over the side of the bed. He wasn't teasing anymore; he was urgent and hungry, and as soon as he was able he was bent over and taking Aziraphale's cock into his mouth.

Aziraphale cried out, clenching his hands behind his back, suddenly feeling more bound than ever. By now he would have been twisting his fingers into Crowley's hair, trying to stop himself from thrusting his hips, but this time all he could do was watch.

And watch he did, Crowley's lips wrapped around him, head bobbing frantically. He had his hands firmly on Aziraphale's upper thighs, pinning him down. “_Oh_,” he moaned, shuddering, assaulted by both the sensation and the sight as Crowley paused every now and then to slowly lick his way up the underside of Aziraphale's cock before taking him back into his mouth.

He could come like that, easily. But something took over, so that he found himself speaking instead of just mindlessly groaning. Though, of course, as he had been moaning the demon's name for several minutes now, it took a moment for him to catch Crowley's attention.

“Crowley. _ Crowley_.”

Crowley shifted, letting Aziraphale’s cock slide out of his mouth. It was the slowest, dirtiest, most indulgent thing Aziraphale had ever seen – or that’s what he thought until Crowley loomed above him, licking his lips, as if savouring the taste. “Yes, angel?” he asked, his voice throaty and deep.

“I want-”

“Yes?”

“Watch me come,” Aziraphale breathed.

The reaction on Crowley’s face was almost instantaneous; his lips parted ever-so-slightly, as if all words had been stolen from him, and his eyes went nearly black. Not a single mouthy retort escaped him. Instead he leaned closer, planting an elbow down on the bed to hold himself aloft, and wrapped his other hand around Aziraphale’s hard, slick cock.

He gasped, and Crowley squeezed, and Aziraphale shuddered, twitching his hips up. The demon’s face was close to his, near enough to kiss, but Aziraphale did not close the distance. He wanted Crowley to watch him, see just how well he could take Aziraphale apart; and Aziraphale wanted to revel in being seen, wanted the demon’s undivided attention.

Crowley’s hand – so strong, dextrous, commanding – was wrapped around him in earnest, stroking him towards oblivion. “Oh, _shit_,” he whined, and the demon practically growled. “_Crowley _.”

When he came, it felt so exquisite that Aziraphale saw – nothing. He could not remember if his vision had gone black, or if he had lost a part of his memory. He just knew that the reaction he got out of Crowley was incredibly rewarding as soon as his vision returned to him. (He did not know that outside, on the street below, a daisy struggling to grow finally pushed its way out through the concrete).

“Oh, fuck,” Crowley said, looking absolutely wrecked, staring down at Aziraphale with an expression that went beyond hunger. “Angel. Angel, I…”

Aziraphale wriggled, flexed his fingers, working the numbness out of his hands. “You can roll me over, now,” he said, softly, leaning up to close the distance and nip at the demon's bottom lip.

Crowley made a noise in his throat, but he didn’t need to be told twice, beginning to hurriedly undo his belt, shoving his trousers and briefs down to his knees. Aziraphale soon found himself on his stomach, and Crowley was pressing – two, three? – of his fingers inside of him, slick with lube he must have grabbed from the bedside table when Aziraphale had been too distracted to notice. Aziraphale relaxed, helped by the satisfaction of his orgasm, and moaned when Crowley was suddenly grabbing his hips and nudging him onto his knees.

Aziraphale knew how he must look, face down on the bed, hands cuffed at his back, naked from the waist down. He moaned into the pillow as Crowley’s cock filled him, thick and hot.

“Look at me, angel.” The demon’s voice had gone ragged.

Aziraphale turned his head to the side, laying his cheek against the pillow, and glanced over his shoulder. Crowley loomed above and behind him, fingers gripping his hips, tight enough that Aziraphale knew there would be bruises in the morning. “Oh, fuck,” Crowley breathed, staring down at him. He rolled his hips and Aziraphale gasped. “_Fuck _.”

He was losing control, and Aziraphale felt a spike of pleasure in his belly at that. He arched his back invitingly, as best he could in his position, and that was all the encouragement Crowley seemed to need.

He started thrusting into Aziraphale, hard and fast, the erotic slap of his hip bones connecting with the back of Aziraphale’s thighs filling the room. It was almost as loud as the sounds the demon was making, a mix between ecstasy and agony. Aziraphale found his face pressed hard into the pillow, though he didn’t mind; he loved it when Crowley took him like this, desperate and messy.

When Crowley came (there was an unsettling existential _ shudder _ and in the next building a crucifix on someone’s bedroom wall crashed to the ground) Aziraphale felt like the most powerful person in the world.

Crowley shifted, mouth latching for a moment at the back of Aziraphale’s neck. He shivered. “My hands, darling,” he reminded him.

“_Mmf_, yeah.”

A few moments later, Crowley was fumbling with the cuffs, and then Airaphale’s hands were free. Crowley was already rolling him over, buffing at his wrists, kissing his palms, before Aziraphale even thought about moving.

Aziraphale reached up into the demon’s hair, pulling his face down to kiss him, long and slow. “Do you want to be in them next time?” he asked.

“Mmmn, yeah, sure,” Crowley mumbled, nuzzling his cheek. “Hm. We could role play.”

“Oh?”

“You’d make an excellent jailer.”

Aziraphale laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a bribe, because porn is the only currency I have that's worth anything. Technically all that was required was Aziraphale calling Crowley a 'foul fiend' in the bedroom and it snowballed from there. Right off a cliff. Into the river. Yeah!
> 
> ok bye!!!


End file.
